Regardless of its racist portrayals, the book posed an important question for me: Is Western Civilization, flawed as it is, worth defending? Many say no. To even suggest that it is is politically incorrect, eliciting wailing and gnashing of teeth from the guilt-afflicted left.
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For a year, you create, pouring time and labor into crafting a tender fruit–a nectarine of your creativity. When it’s complete, you cradle it in your palms as you approach the Beast of Bezos, praying, hoping that it will take your creation and nurture it, helping it along to realize it’s full potential, enriching you both in the process. You bow your head and prostrate yourself and present it. The Beast gazes downwards at you. You quiver in anticipation. It turns. Your body tenses. Its calloused paw extends. You raise your golden fruit higher. Its claws take hold of it. You let go. The Beast holds it up to examine it. It raises it above it’s head and opens its mouth. Its claws squeeze. Your tender fruit is crushed and the nectarine oozes out, dribbling into the Beast’s gaping mouth. Then the Beast of Bezos turns and hands you back the twisted, lifeless husk of your creation and moves on.
With experience comes knowledge. The lesson is that your attitude about Amazon is everything. If you expect anything from them then you will be disappointed. They are a business and happy to immediately extract every cent of present value from your creation–immediately. They are not in the business of future cash flows.
You must treat the Beast of Bezos like a tool and nothing more. If you give them your creation, and are stupid enough to pay them to market it, then they will gladly exploit it fully and as rapidly as possible giving you only scraps of royalties–if anything. You have to maintain control. Figure out how to sell and promote it, yourself. Keep the profits. Nurture your tender fruit and only let the Beast of Bezos have the scraps.